Lost But Not Forgotten
by arocks4eva
Summary: After Lucy Jagow looses some of her memory from a head trauma, she must relearn who she is and hopefully regain all of the things she's lost, including every single moment with her husband Harry Styles from One Direction.
1. Chapter 1 Part 1

The street cafe, Debbie's Corner, on the corner of West 3rd Street and South Western Avenue, was unusually busy. Sure it was a bright, Saturday afternoon in the middle of spring, but it was never like this. All the seats but across for mine on the walk were taken up. Maybe it was the air. Maybe people silently understood the beauty of spring just this day, like I did.

Being a regular here, I never remembered how many times I'd been here. Maybe thousands. I'd had everything on the menu, even once the fried hagis. I'm scottish descent but that didn't make it taste better than I did. I'll never try it again.

Maybe there was a reason all these seats were filled up but the one across from mine. Maybe there's a reason for everything. Some divine intervention, just silently screaming _this is meant to be._

"Do you mind if I sit here?" someone asked. I looked up from my songbook, where I wrote lyrics when I sat down and relaxed here.

"Oh sure, not a problem. It's unusually busy here today." The person, a man, probably about my age, 23, sat down across from me with his cup of, was that a tea bag string? and opened his copy of the LA Times.

"It's lovely weather here. Where I live, it's always overcast. It's quite refreshing for it to always be sunny." Had a buttery, low voice, and an accent. I was used to accents, working with people from other countries all the time.

"You know, you look quite familiar. Where are you from?"

"Well I'm from Cheshire, in England, but I live in London now." He flashed a brilliant smile for just a second.

"You're from that band, aren't you? You know the one who sang that one song in 2012. How did it start?" I did the finger placement for the notes as I sang the melody. "Da, da da, da da, da, da, da da."

"Yeah, One Direction's the name actually." He blushed a little. "I've never had anyone sing the riff to me before like that." He shook out his brunette curls a little.

"That's how I remember songs now. I've written so many for so many people it's just what I have to do to place the face."

"You write songs? For who?"

"Way too many people to remember. And I know it's sounds cocky, but it's true. I've collaborated with Taylor Swift, written for Rihanna, Pitbul, Selena Gomez, Katy Perry, Jennifer Lopez, Nicki Ninaj. I really could go on." I pushed back a piece of my dark brown hair.

"So you've been around a lot of celebrities?"

"How can you tell?"

"Because you're just sitting here, talking to me like I'm a normal person. You're not asking me to sign anything or do this or that."

"I never really got starstruck. It's just about the music to me."

"Are you working on a song right now?" He glanced at my note pad.

"Yeah. It's time to get all the summer hits recorded. I'm just making sure it sounds right in my head."

"Yeah. I'm actually here recording our album. We're a few songs short though. Do you know my buddy Ed Sheeran?"

"Yeah, I've had a few sessions with him before! How's he doing? His career just right took off, didn't it?"

"Yeah, it did. I'm quite happy for him. But, he's so busy, he's not giving us as many songs we need, and Niall, my band mate who writes too, he can't pick up the slack. When he writes, it's amazing, but he can only write so many songs, you know?"

"Yeah. I've never written a whole album on my own. It's hard, no matter how talented you are. Maybe that's why Adele only comes out with a new record every few years. She won't let anyone touch her music with a ten foot pole." I chuckled at my joke.

"Maybe we can have a session in the studio? My manager seems to be shopping around for a few more writers."

"If I get the call, definitely. I think I've got quite a tune for you."

"What's your name, by the way?"

"Lucy Jagow."

"What a lovely name." He flashed that bright smile of his. "But unfortunately, I have some things I need to get done today, so I have to leave you to your writing. But I will _definitely _have my people call your people."

"See you around town then." I smiled as he gathered his things and continued to make his way down West 3rd Street.


	2. Chapter 1 Part 2

"Lucy? Lucy?" Someone was calling my name. Slowly I opened my eyes. My head pounded in my ears and I felt like I had a huge gash on the side of my head.

"Lucy, I'm Doctor Collins. You're in the hospital. You were in a car accident a few days ago and we've kept you under since then. You're going to be okay. How do you feel?" The lady had a thick accent that just worsened my headache.

"My head hurts." I glanced at my body. I was in one of those plastic hospital gowns and had an IV needle sticking out of my hand. There were a few wrapped bandages on my arms and legs.

"That's normal. You had a head trauma in a car crash. You're seat restraint failed and you crashed your head through the front window."

I felt my head. Just where it hurt, there was a soft bandage covering a wound.

"And who are you?" I looked at the man, of about thirty, with brown curly hair and a drawn face. "Are you a nurse or something?"

He looked worriedly at Doctor Collins. "She doesn't remember me?" he dragged his hands through his hair. "Lucy, baby, I'm your husband, Harry." He looked at me expectantly.

"I have a husband? What's with all the accents?"

The man, Harry shook out his curls, stressed. "You don't remember me at all?" He turned to the doctor. "Why doesn't she remember me? We've known each other for five years, married two. How do you forget that?"

"Sometimes when the brain swells, the way it presses at the skull can hide memories. Eventually she should be able to gain them back."

I watched the two strangers talk, the man anxious and the woman trying to calm him down. Where am I? _Who _am I? I wasn't married, or even had a boyfriend. I was just Lucy, a songwriter from New York, living in California.

Harry sat down in the chair next to me and took my hand. On that hand were two rings, a sterling silver engagement ring with a big diamond and a simple matching wedding band. I don't remember receiving them ever.

He showed me his own ring, the exact same as mine. Pulling his off, he showed me the engraving. It said "Lucy."

"Yours has my name engraved. Look at it." He seemed so eager, trying to show me something I couldn't see. Confused I took off my rings and looked inside the band. it said "Harry" just like he promised he would.

"That's you?"

"Yes, yes, that's me! I'm your husband!" His brown eyes pleaded.

"But I don't know you!" I was so confused, and my head throbbed harder.

A tear slipped down his cheek. "You don't remember me."

"I'm sorry." Harry seemed so vulnerable, so broken. He was a stranger but I felt horrible that I couldn't help him find what he was looking for. Because I don't know what it is.


	3. Chapter 2 Part 1

I'd been in this studio many times before. And like all those times, I already had a song composed. I'd gone home and listened to every single One Direction song made just to feel their style and learn their story, and I had the perfect songs for their next move.

"Ay! It's Lucy!" Harry greeted me with a hug and a European kiss on the cheek. Each boy followed the same, Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne and Louis Tomlinson, giving me a friendly hug and a kiss.

"Have you got some wonderful things written for us?" Their manager, Will asked with a charming smile.

"Of course! You are going to like it, I know it. I've already got the demos." I handed a cd to the producer at the soundboard and he put it into his laptop and played it. The first song "Heartbeat" had a pounding beat and an upbeat tone. The boys intently listened to the lyrics and bobbed their heads a little.

I had five songs written for them, and they seemed to like them all. I did too. After I wrote them I felt refreshed and confident. These were good songs, some of my best.

"Where have you been all out career?" Liam asked with a huge grin on his face.

"Here in California?" I laughed. "I take it that you like the songs."

Harry looked around to all the other men in the room. "I mean, I'm only speaking for myself but, I think we have a very successful album on our hands." The rest of the boys nodded in agreement.

"I like it," Niall said, Zayn nodding and agreeing.

"Let's do this!" Louis exclaimed.


	4. Chapter 2 Part 2

Looking in the hospital mirror, I didn't see myself. I saw someone with a slightly older face, honey colored hair and scared eyes. "When did I do _that _to my hair?" I asked myself.

"Lucy, love, are you okay?" Harry knocked in the bathroom door.

"Yeah I- I'm fine." My scrapes were slowly fading and my stitches dissolving. I'd been comatose for two weeks, and awake for one. I was fully mobile but a little shaky. I couldn't walk on my own for very long, but each day I was getting better.

"Lucy, you can't lock yourself in here forever. We have things to go through." Harry popped his head inside. None of the doors had locks just incase I got hurt.

"That's why I'm in here. I have things to go through myself. Please leave me alone." Why was my voice so different? It was murky, kind of an American/English hybrid, not clean like it should be.

The problem is with everything, is that there's this space in time that I have no record of. The least thing I remember is congratulating Katy Perry on the Grammy for her song that I wrote. That was in 2011. A lot of things have changed since then.

And by a lot I mean A LOT. Even more than I've been told. And I was about to be told much more. It was like reading a biography. Except it's about your life and that you don't remember it ever happening.

He shut the door quietly. I still had a headache and sensitivity to loud noises or bright lights. My brain was constantly going through its files, looking for things, checking if they'd been refreshed and found. But I always came up blank.

I couldn't stand to stare at my new self for much longer. All the scrapes, cuts and bruises just reminded me that I was damaged. I'm lost.


	5. Chapter 3

"Lucy, are you ready for this? It's quite possible that you'll regain some of your memory." Doctor Collins sat diagonal from me at the table in the counseling room.

"Anything that gives me some insight, I'm willing to do. Bring them in."

Harry, along with four other men that were supposed to be "like my brothers and best friends" came in with various mementos of my lost self.

"Lucy, do you remember any of these people?" Doctor Collins lifted her pen to record what I said. Harry sat to the left of me. I glanced over the four boys, the first one, a handsome and strong looking Pakistani mix with observing eyes. The second, with an extremely nice and friendly looking face, light brown hair and birthmarks on his neck. The third one wore a disappointed but expectant look to his face, hidden brown eyes and messy hair. The last, looked me dead in the eye as if willing me to remember. He seemed the youngest of the bunch, a sweet face and delicate blond hair.

"No. I don't remember them."

As if on cue, it looked like all five boys quietly broke down inside themselves. Harry who had been looking at me expectantly, put his elbows on the table and his head in his hands, running through his finger through his brown, curly hair.

"Well boys, you can sit down. It seems as if we're going to have to be here awhile." Doctor Collins motioned them to take a seat to face me. "Were you able to do what I asked you?"

"Yes." The Pakistani one placed a file in front of me. "Lucy, we took all of your songs that you've written in chronological order. We're trying to pinpoint exactly when your last memory is."

I opened the manilla folder. A copy of my songs were labeled by order. Some I had dated myself when I'd finished it, but not all.

"The first song I ever wrote, when I was ten." I remembered this. It was about school.

"Can you put the songs you remember in a pile and those you don't in another?" Doctor Collins asked.

This was easy. I always remembered what I was doing when I finished a song, even though I'd written well over five hundred. It took me a little while, but I finished eventually with two clean piles. Things I remembered and things I didn't.

"Lucy says that her last clear memory was at the 2011 Grammy's. You hadn't met before that, had you?"

"No. We hadn't even broken into America. We were still touring here on the X-Factor Tour," Harry offered. The rest of the boys gave validating nods.

"Okay. Well, what else have you brought along?" Doctor Collins proceeded.

"I brought photo albums in with me. I like to take pictures and kind of document everything," the one with the messy hair offered, sliding to me five picture sized albums. "Everything's in order, like you asked."

There were hundreds of pictures to go through. A bunch of me in the studio, the boys in different parts of the world. Eventually as time progressed, there were more and more of Harry and I. We looked happy.

Then, there was the wedding album. Pictures of me dressed in a beautiful white dress, my family, which I pointed out aloud that I remembered them, pictures of the boys in handsome black suits, but mostly of me and Harry. The way he looked at me was the same as he did when he thought I couldn't see.

"How can I forget my own wedding?" I was stressed, confused, tired, exhausted.

"Boys, I think this is enough for today," Doctor Collins suggested. I nodded, feeling broken and beaten.

"Wait!" I said as they began to get up. "What are your names?"

They looked at each other. "Go ahead, introduce yourself." Harry said impatiently.

"I'm Zayn Malik," The Pakistani one started.

"Louis Tomlinson." The one with the messy hair.

"Niall Horan." The blond one.

"Liam Payne." The friendly one.

Something in my body told me to hug them, and I did. Each boy held on to me like they never wanted to let go.

"I don't know how many times I'm going to say this, but thank you for your help."


	6. Chapter 4

Because the only thing wrong with me now was my memory, it was time to go home. Apparently, I didn't know where home was. I remembered my posh little LA apartement, not the London loft I had moved into after I got married.

Me almost dying was a big deal around the world. Harry was always whispering about "security" and "the fans" and "the press" and often there was a crowd of people camped out because it had been rumored it was my discharge day. So that's why I was discharged at the dead of night.

They let me out at 2 AM, the optimal for no one to notice. I hugged Doctor Collins, and my neurologist and all of my nurses before leaving and thanked them for all their help. I was so gracious because even though things were bad, they helped me as much as possible.

"Our head security guard, Mike is on full call whenever you need him. If someone's trying to get into the house or take a picture, just call him or the police," Harry said as he drove through the quiet streets.

"Also, if you want to go somewhere, tell me. I've cancelled everything until I'm sure you'll be okay on your own."

"I am okay on my own. I can still take care of myself."

"Well, what if you need help finding something? Or you get lost? Or, God forbid, you get hurt? What about then?"

"But how am I going to be able to get along on my own if you do everything for me? I'm still a functioning person Harry!" I just wanted him to see I was okay. Not perfect, but okay.

"I know! I know Lucy! I know!" he yelled.

I flinched. My head still hurt from loud noises.

"I'm sorry. I just don't want to lose you for real. Because you're still here. You're the same as when I met you. I see you waiting, trying to get everything back."

I didn't say anything. Before the missing years, I'd been to London before. But that didn't mean that I remembered much about it, except that it was always rainy. If I tried to go anywhere I'd still get lost.

"Well here's the place." Harry pulled into a small side driveway next to the loft. It looked exactly like all the other lofts on the street, gray brick and two stories. The inside was decorated as I'd always imagined it would be. Neutral furniture colors, pale green paint and art all over the walls. The master bedroom was built off the left of the living room, with a large kingsize bed, which was unmade. There was a nice full bathroom and a fair sized closet built off of that.

The floor plan was open how I liked, the kitchen flowed from the right of the living room and filled with large stainless steel appliances, cherry cabinets and marble countertops. "I see my decorating styles never changed." I cracked a small smile.

"Upstairs is mainly studios. We had a full mixing board and sound booth converted from a guest bedroom. Your own music room is up there too." Harry began to walk up the spiral staircase.

"Somehow, this already feels like a home," I said before following him up.


	7. Chapter 5

"You wouldn't let anyone help you decorate this room. It's all your own." Harry led me to the farthest room on the right side of the hallway. I stepped inside, him behind me.

I looked around like I was in another world. The wall across from me had a book shelf. On the shelf sat five Grammys. Hung above were five framed platinum discs. "Those are mine?"

"Yeah." He smiled. "In 2013 you released a few of your own songs. The one you were most excited about was the one with your idol."

"I wrote a song with JACK WHITE!"

Harry laughed. "And sang it. All these records are your own singles."

I was in awe. Jack White was one of the only person that I would ever get nervous to meet. Or Paul McCartney. But this was beyond AMAZING. Jack White is the most talented living person that I knew of. "You framed the letter he sent you after. Incredible lad."

"You think I don't know?" I joked.

But this room was almost as perfect as Jack. I'd taught myself to play numerous stringed instruments, the violin, viola, cello, bass (upright and electric), mandolin, guitar, banjo, and each of my instruments were set up so that if I wanted to jam, all I had to do was rosin a bow and tune up. It seemed like I'd gotten custom wallpaper. White paper with black ink, was what seemed to be every single song I'd ever written. Like my songbook but on walls. Seems like something I would do.

"That's pretty much the rest of the house. I'm wiped so I'm gonna hit the couch."

"The couch? What about the master?" I asked.

"You're okay with me sleeping in the same bed as you?"

"Oh. Oh yeah." I remembered. "I'm sorry, I just, well, you know."

"I understand. I know things are different and our whole relationship was just kind of... wiped out. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, love."

"Okay. Goodnight Harry."


	8. Chapter 6

Headphones in, world out, was how I lived. And this is exactly how I was, the chunky recording headphones so could here the exact sound coming into the microphone. Every once in awhile I wrote a song for myself that I would never give up. This was one of them.

I strummed my guitar, setting down a theme and melody. Lyrics always came first, and these ones were set up on a stand next to me.

"There's a warmth setting over my soul/ filling the cracks and the empty holes/ you can take my innocence/ I don't need it/ Just give me your love/ I'll complete it./ There's a sadness in my brain/But it's got no thing to gain/ Just take my pain/ That drives me insane/ Just give me your love/ I'll complete it."

"Is that a new song?"

I nearly fell off the stool I was perched on. "Harry? What are you doing here? Recordings over for today." My heart was beating fast. Mostly because he'd scared the life out of me, and because he'd probably just heard that whole song.

"I left my coat here so I came to get it. Did I scare you?"

"Yes! I thought I was all alone!"

"Hey, do you want to get some coffee?"

"What?"

"I said, 'do you want to get some coffee?'"

"I know what you said. I'm in the middle of a session right now."

"Oh, I'm sorry for interrupting you. Carry on." He stood at the mix tables, waiting for me to play again.

"Are you going to leave or what?" I snapped.

"I'm sorry. I thought I would listen if you don't mind."

"You know what? I'll just take you up on the coffee idea." My inspiration was completely blown, there was no way I could finish now.

"Debbie's?"

"There no place better!"

I found a blanket and a pillow in a guest bedroom and brought it into my room. I made a bed on a long couch that reached both ends of the west wall. Snuggled up, I sensed a feeling of familiarity here. Not a memory, but kind of a verification that this is my house. Exhausted from the sudden events, I fell asleep.

"The first night in our first house together. No furniture, no problem." Harry turned off the pump for the air mattress that sat on the floor in our bare house. None of our furniture had arrived yet, and all the things we'd brought from the states was packed up in boxes in the kitchen.

I brought over some blankets and pillows for us, trying to attempt to make this as livable as possible. "Who said you need furniture?" I changed into a pair of sweatpants and a tanktop to sleep in, and Harry just took off his clothes until he was in nothing but boxers.

We settled in getting comfortable, him putting his right arm around my shoulders, pulling me to him, me, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my head on his chest just under his chin. We half sat, half laid, kind of in between just lounging. I could hear his heartbeat and the sound of his breathing. I loved sitting like this, just the sound and presence of him was enough.

"Do you think we should have a house party once all the furniture comes in? Just some close friends, no big deal."

"That sounds like a great idea Harry." I looked up at him. He looked at me.

"What? Do I have something in my teeth?"

I laughed. "No, you're perfect, Harry. It's just kind of surreal, that's all."

He nodded like he did sometimes. "Our own true place, I know." He kissed the top of my head. "I love you Lucy."

"I love you too Harry."

I woke up suddenly. This was not a regular dream. It was a memory. It had to be. I quickly scoured the room for paper and I found it in a built in cabinet on the east wall. Quickly I wrote down word for word the whole thing. And unlike a dream, it stayed in my head like a mental inventory.

"Harry! Harry! Harry wake up now!" I ran down the spiral staircase quickly but carefully.

"Lucy? Is something wrong? Are you okay?" He said worriedly. I ran into him and hugged his bare chest with all I had, sobbing now. He took the paper from my hands, turned on a floor lamp and read what I'd written.

"Come here Lucy Love. Everything's okay." He hugged me back fully and wholeheartedly. "I'm so proud of you, you know?" His voice was getting shaky. "I love you so much."

His body felt exactly like it felt in the memory, warm and smooth. It was not a projected vision, it was a memory. It was real.

Harry was crying now, I could feel his tears fall from his face onto the top of my head. I couldn't let go of him, I was beginning to get back the love I had felt back. It was strong and true, like nothing I'd ever remembered feeling.

"We're going to be okay, I know it."


	9. Chapter 7

I woke up around ten AM disappointed. I didn't have another memory. I was so grateful for the one I had, but it was just one thing. It was only one piece in the million piece puzzle it seemed.

Quickly I threw my hair into a messy bun before walking out into the kitchen. Something smelled delicious. "Good morning Harry." I sat on a stool diagonal from where he was cooking some eggs and bacon.

"Oh you're up. Perfect."

"It smells delicious. I didn't know you could cook."

"Oh, yeah. Gets my minds off things lately." He flipped the sizzling bacon. "Ow, the grease got me."

"Are you okay?" I asked worriedly.

"Yeah. You can't make good bacon if you don't get spit on, that's what I always say!" He chuckled a bit, throwing on a huge smile. There was a tiny little red spot on his arm where he'd gotten burn.

"What are you doing today?" I asked while pouring myself a glass of orange juice from the pitcher on the counter.

"I've got a little business to take care of with the boys so I'll have to step out for a few hours, not very long. What are you going to do?"

"Go through my CD collection. I'm dying to see who's come out with what."

"You treated that collection like it was your own child. There's a lot of good records in there that came out during the missing days.

"Harry, you know how you said I made a song with Jack White?"

"Yes."

"Was it with _just _Jack White?"

"Yes."

"So does that mean that The White Stripes... they broke up?"

"I'm sorry, love. Early 2011 they did."

"That's too bad. I love that band."

"It led to much better things. That's what you said after you listened to Jack White's solo album in 2012. A lot of things have happened." He turned off the burner and put the bacon in a paper-lined bowl. The oven beeped, and he pulled out a rack of big blueberry muffins, my favorite.

"I've got to get dressed and out of here. Eat what you want." He kissed my cheek. "Oh, I'm sorry, it's just habit."

"I-I know." He didn't say anything and the silence turned into an awkward one. He turned around and closed himself in the master bedroom to get ready and hide his embarrassment. I could get used to those kisses. It didn't feel awkward to me. It felt natural. I was beginning to get back to my normal self.


End file.
